Beautiful bits

When I was little, I'd lie on my back on the kitchen counter and my mom would wash my hair in the sink. My hair was long and curly and if I leaned back far enough, I could feel it swirl down the drain a bit. It was a little creepy, but that neat creepy that encouraged me to do it anyway.

One of my fondest memories is of Mom trimming my hair when I was about 7. We went out onto the patio and I perched on a wooden stool. She cut off a few tendrils and shortly after they fell to the ground, two little birds swooped in, picked them up, and flew away. Mom's face lit up and she told me they'd use the curls to line their nest. I still imagine those chestnut curlycues lovingly arranged with the twigs and branches, cushioning the birds as they slept...

We staged more outdoor cutting sessions, leaving the curls where they fell, but never knew whether they were collected and treasured or eventually just blew away.

* * *

I read one of the most beautiful statements recently, and just have to note it, because it described a wonderful feeling I've had, but not been able to express:

“A smile coursed through my veins, into my spirit and over my face...”

My heart filled, I savored the image and I thought, ‘Yes... Yes, exactly.’